. . . And who was Kate?

I've not been here for some time, but suddenly inspired by the tresses of a Montana (no, colorado) lass . . . or is it just the thrill of competition.

Well, it's words and I've put down a few since my last visit.

I can't believe that I didn't record on the pages of sparklefart that I finally finished and "won" at NANOWRIMO. Did it just this past november and now . . . don't have to write another word, although the urge has suddenly found its way into me.

My book title for Nanowrimo was/is, "Pieces of String to short to throw Away" and after failiing the first time around with trying to "prose out" my script, "Johnny Lucky" . . . the dad idea went very well.

I just picked fifty moments and or memories and squeezed a thousand words out of each of them. Actiually, some I only maybe got six hundred and others I got two thousand, but I did eventually get to fifty-thousand at like, four in the morning with about 24 hours left.

Anyway, onward . . .

Digging a deeper hole

Just like my credit card, the amount keeps rising. Looks like, with my lack of writing, I am up to, or need to do just about two-thousand words a day from here on out.

Luckily for me, I've told too many people that I am doing this, so it has to get done. Only wish I could find a decent place to write––no good at the house. My favorite cafe, here on Clement street, full of a rough, smoking, group of Asian men out front, but always empty in the back, closed the back, off. Bummer.

One place has internet, but it's too noisy. the other, no internet and no wall plugs for the laptop. the other––just too many poeple coming and going and too much sun shine, creating glare.

I need a closet with a bare light bulb.

Daylight savings time, but no time, or too much.

almost two-thousand words into nanowrimi––more words than I've written in a long time. I just wish I was working on something absolutely original––as in fresh––as in, I am basically trying to turn one of my film scripts into a novel.

THe down-side to this is that I keep referring to the script and worse, I keep writing in a screen format, leaving out most of the description, or being very vague. And not that I want to use them as filler, but I tend to not say, he said, she said . . . whatever they are called––identifiers?? this would certainly boost my word count. Hell, even the sparse, mr. carver, said, "he said, she said."

And I need a better place to write. house is too easy, with my messy desk and internet access. thinking of going out the to the shed. Wish I could find a coffee shop with no internet access and no noise. I went to my favorite old Chinese joint––the smoker––but they closed off the back room. bummer. write on.

NaNoWriMo begins and here I go

I've done nothing in the name of fiction. I've not used my computer, nor one of my many manual typewriters, or even the collected army of sharpened pencils, that stand at attention, almost.

Luckily National Novel Writing Month has come around just at the right time, to rescue me, and I aim to make the cut––fiction forward––here I come.

In the spirit of write more, edit less, or, quantity over quality, I am eating an entire quart of Dreyers Slow churned ice cream, with Splenda, no less. Wonderful way to start the first thousand words.